


Waking Up to See Your Face

by Llyon



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llyon/pseuds/Llyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Daniel wakes up to find Peggy beside him, and one time Peggy wakes up to find him.</p><p>There is nothing terribly graphic, but there is mild swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

> HEY! Guess what I own.
> 
> Yeah, not a thing.
> 
> And I will make no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter 1: Midnight Oil

If the universe had consulted him, Daniel Sousa would have suggested that waking up to the sight of Peggy Carter's face should not go hand in hand with pain.

Of course, if the universe cared for Daniel's opinion, it had only given the most tantalizing glimpses of that concern. Case in point, he had returned from the war. It was true that he was missing a leg. He had come to the conclusion that the loss of his leg was preferable to the loss of his life. Since he had no wish to die, he was grateful. And since he was stubborn, he faced the challenges of his changed life with characteristic doggedness.

Daniel Sousa knew that the universe could be generous but that the most lavish gifts often had a sting to them.

Pain forced him to consciousness as he coughed, gasped, and wheezed through the waning effects of the Stark's cursed gas. The tender spot on his head – a gift from one of New York's Finest – was a paltry irritation by comparison.

Daniel had felt worse, it was true, but this was no day in the park.

Despite waking up with a throat that felt as though someone had attacked it with sandpaper, a whisper of a headache from the concussion he had sustained, and an ocean of confusion as to what had led to his state, it was a relief to see Peggy standing in the room. Was he imagining the concern in her face as she came to sit beside him?

When Carter told him that he had attacked Thompson, memories flooded his mind: a spray of gas in his face followed first by god-awful pain and then an upsurge of anger that was more than anything he'd ever experienced. It was hatred so concentrated that all rational thought was incinerated. The only relief his disordered mind could comprehend was to kill.

He was grateful that he hadn't had much of a chance to act on the blood-lust. Thompson was an asshole, but he was a solid – if not quite brilliant – agent. Sousa dreaded the ribbing that this episode would surely provoke. That embarrassment was nothing to his private horror that he had struck Peggy as well. The knowledge that she could more than handle herself gave him no comfort.

Yet, comfort was there, seated right next to him. He could have woken alone or with an unfamiliar doctor poking and prodding him. He could have opened his eyes to find that he was being watched over by Andrews, by Carroll, or – heaven forbid – by Thompson.

If the universe had asked him who he wanted at his bedside following this debacle, he never would have had the audacity to choose Peggy. Yet, here she was: a warm and serene balm to his soul. He struggled with the pleasure-pain of it – grateful that she was there and hating himself for treasuring her attention as he did.

Damn, but the universe had some sick sense of humor.


	2. Waiting for the Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Daniel and Peggy are sent to Rio de Janeiro, they are separated and Daniel is forced to wait until she can find her way back to the rendevzous point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still own nothing.
> 
> This chapter was the very devil to write, but I was finally able to coax Daniel into helping me out a bit. It may have helped that neither he nor Peggy suffered any physical harm...this time. Mwah-ha-ha-ha!
> 
> Ahem
> 
> According to Google, _veio_ is slang in Brazil for "old man" or "pal." If I can't trust Google, who can I trust?

Patience had fully deserted the field. Only the combination of Daniel's common sense and training held full-blown panic from claiming complete victory. This was not a time to make rash decisions without considering all of the angles. He had plenty of time to examine his options. Oh, yeah, HE had time. The question was: did Peggy?

The room situated above a filthy, raucous _boteco_ had room enough for a narrow cot – complete with a mattress that was thinner than a sheet of paper – and the rickety table with its two cheap wooden chairs. What the space did not have, unfortunately, was enough room for Sousa to pace. He had to be content with sitting at the table, drumming his fingers on its scarred surface and allowing his good leg to jiggle with nerves.

Carter was now 36 hours late.

The knock on the door had Daniel on his feet, reaching for his crutch and gun simultaneously. Limping over to the door, eased his back against the wall and opened the door a crack. Seeing his guest, he opened the door wider, allowing the man access to the room. "Silva," Daniel acknowledged. The man was unaccompanied and Daniel sighed as he returned to his seat. "No news, then?" He asked wearily.

"Ah, I have news. Thompson is looking for you, _veio_." Before Sousa could protest, Silva raised a calming hand to stop the flow of words. "That is what my contacts tell me. He has not yet found me, thus he has not yet found you."

Daniel relaxed slightly, bowing his head to stare moodily at the floor. What a mess this all was. "Thank you, Silva. I owe you." When the chief did locate him, Sousa would find himself under orders to get on a plane and back to the States with the information and evidence he and Carter had collected during their week in Rio de Janeiro. Never mind that the biggest prize – and Carter's portion of the mission – were still outstanding.

"But that is not all the news I have." There was a smile in Silva's voice that had Daniel's head whipping back up to meet his twinkling brown eyes. "At approximately nineteen hundred hours, a fire broke out at Cardoso's compound. It was very, very unfortunate, how the fire spread to a cache of explosives. There was very little loss of life, but Cardoso's operation was completely leveled." Now Silva did grin. "I wonder whose carelessness started the blaze."

"Carter," Daniel breathed. That woman was Houdini reincarnated, and by this time, Sousa should be accustomed to her performing miracles. The reprieve still made him lightheaded. Looking at his watch, he shot up from the chair. "That was almost four hours ago. We gotta go find her."

"No, no, _veio_. Think. What makes more sense? You had an agreement: complete your missions and meet back at the rendezvous point. There is 10 miles of mountainous terrain between you and the compound. It is dark, and she may be avoiding the road. Where will you be most easily found? Searching in the dark or here, as you promised."

Silva was right, damn it. Daniel had to stay, had to patiently wait for his erstwhile partner to reappear.

If Daniel knew nothing else, he knew that his first ulcer would be named in her honor: Peggy Pain-In-The-Ass Carter.

"I suggest that you try to sleep. She may need you to be at your best when she does show up."

"I can't imagine being able to sleep. I'd rather wait," Daniel didn't have a chance to finish this thought.

"I will wait," Silva insisted. "And I will wake you when she does arrive."

Sousa nodded and shuffled over to the bed. He hadn't realized how the waiting had exhausted him. As soon as he was horizontal, his eyes closed and he drifted off. Occasionally, Silva would shift in his chair or would turn a page in his book and Daniel's tired mind would catalogue the sound, reassuring him that he was not yet needed. He slept.

At one point, the end of the cot seemed to sag. It was a sensation he remembered from his childhood when his mother's cat would hop up onto his bed and curl up at his feet. There was sweetness and safety in that memory, and so he roused only enough to shift his feet over, making room for the feline.

A ray of early morning sunlight crept over the sill of the small window. It wasn't long before it hit his face. He recognized the warmth.

Wait.

If the sun was up, where was Peggy?

The thought jolted him awake and he sat up, bleary eyes turning to the table to find Silva.

Silva wasn't there.

"Good morning, Daniel."

Daniel turned his head to find Peggy, sitting in one of the chairs, her feet propped up at the foot of the bed. Her clothing was on the muddy side, and her feet were bare. He immediately noticed the vibrant red polish on her toes, and it made him smile.

"Good morning, Peggy." He said, striving to sound as though this was how he started every morning – with this beautiful woman sitting in his bedroom. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Why should I have? It was the middle of the night. There was nothing that needed to be done immediately. And if we're asking questions," Carter glared at him. "Why are you even here? Jack expected us back yesterday."

Daniel shrugged carelessly. "I told him that we needed a bit more time."

Carter narrowed her eyes, "And he was okay with that?"

"Hell, I don't know. I didn't ask. I told."

"And then you didn't wait around for an answer or for additional orders." Peggy guessed.

Daniel didn't bother to answer. He just smiled at her, happy and relieved to have her back.

"Clearly, I have been a terrible influence on you." Peggy scolded gently. "You used to follow orders."

"Let's just say, I felt the need to improvise."

Regretfully, Peggy removed her feet from the bed and started to put her shoes back on. Not looking at him, she said softly, "thank you for waiting for me."

"No problem. Just," he paused, eying her until she looked up enquiringly. "Next time, you get to be the one who waits."


	3. Kick in the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark's shenanigans lead to a tipsy Daniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimers apply.
> 
> There is mild swearing in this chapter.

His aching head would have preferred the dark and quiet of sleep, but his bladder's call for attention was far stronger. A trip to the bathroom was in order. He opened his Sahara-dry eyes, wincing at the early morning light beaming obnoxiously through the windows.

The room was unfamiliar in almost every way. The bed was softer than his own, the sheets were silky against the bare skin of his leg and arms, and the walls were a soft, clean blue. He knew his own bed was firmer, the sheets a lower quality, and the walls in his bachelor flat were a dingy white. The only familiar things in this room were his prosthetic and crutch propped against the dainty chair close to the bed and the scent. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes against the light and willing his unhappy stomach to calm. The bed linens smelled fresh and clean, much as his own did. He was a bachelor, but he wasn't a savage.

Bachelor. That's right. That's how all of this had started.

ACACACACACACACACAC

The Prior Evening, Approximately 2100 Hours

Offices of the SSR

"Good evening, gentlemen." Howard Stark practically bounced into the bullpen radiating bonhomie. He took a quick look around, then headed directly to Daniel's desk. "Hey, Sousa, where's Peggy?"

"Stark," Daniel acknowledged, but continued to pack up his files for the night. "Carter is still on that milk run for Thompson."

Howard's face fell. "Aw, shoot."

"She should be back sometime tomorrow." Daniel said absently. "Why?"

"I have some news for her." Stark's quick glance around the room told him that he was gathering an audience, and a brilliant idea struck him. "In fact, you all can be the first to know. Well, almost the first."

"Stark, what are you doing here?" Thompson had seen the inventor through the windows of his office. It wasn't unusual for Stark to be at the SSR. It didn't happen that often, but there were times during the past year that Stark had come in to consult on a case or to offer new inventions (ones that had been rigorously tested to ensure that their use would protect the users, not inadvertently kill them) to help the SSR with its duties. Thompson had no luck in preventing Stark from waltzing in without an invitation, but the man - while certainly not harmless - was an ally. Until a workable solution presented itself, Thompson would have to endure Stark's occasional presence.

"I am here with news, Chief Thompson." Stark was gloating now. "You," a wave of his hand encompassed the entire population of the bull pen, "are looking at a man whose days as a bachelor are numbered."

"Thank you for doing your part as a concerned citizen, reporting this...misdeed," Thompson drawled insultingly. "But it is not a crime to bamboozle a naive girl into a life sentence with you...unfortunately."

"Ha, Chief Thompson, ha-ha." Stark let the insult roll right off his back. There were only a select few whose opinion's he cared about. Thompson wasn't even close to making that short list. "The exquisite Maria has made me a happy man, and I am going out to celebrate. You gentlemen should come along. Drinks are on me."

It hadn't taken much persuading on Stark's part to get a majority of the agents to agree. Gomez and McGrath were stuck with the night shift, but most of the others accepted the invitation with glee. Stark could be an irritating ass at times, but he could also be a source of amusement, to say nothing of the enticement of free booze.

"You're coming, too, of course." Stark said quietly to Sousa during the flurry of activity caused by a dozen agents as they put their work away in preparation of leaving.

"I don't know, Stark." Daniel should have known by now that, unless one was very determined, there would be no gainsaying the tenacious Howard Stark. The man could talk rings around anyone in the most annoying way.

"Don't be ridiculous." Stark interrupted airily. "It is your responsibility to come along. After all, Agent Carter would expect you to do your duty and keep me out of trouble."

"Howard," Daniel said dryly, "keeping you on the straight and narrow is above my pay grade."

"Who said anything about the straight and narrow?" Howard waggled his eyebrows, "I just need someone with the skills to protect this gorgeous face when I inevitably piss someone off."

"Oh, well, if that's all." Daniel knew it wasn't worth the argument. Stark would keep talking...and talking...and talking until he gave in. It was better to agree now and then make his excuses after a drink or two.

A drink or two turned into considerably more for everyone and Daniel had stayed with the group far longer than he had planned. Everyone was telling outrageous stories, making the others laugh and protest the obvious exaggerations. They went to three different clubs, enjoying the bustle, the music, the refreshments, the girls.

Three hours later, a Very Drunk Howard Stark had another glorious idea.

He shepherded the group all the way to his house on Abilene Street. He started knocking on the door, loudly.

"Stark," Daniel wasn't quite drunk. Tipsy, yes, and with his prosthetic leg and crutch, that was a bit dangerous. He was still able to drum up some rational thought. "If this is your house, why are you knocking?"

Howard didn't have a chance to answer, as an irritated Angela Martinelli threw the door open.

"What in the world is going on, Stark?"

"Hey, beautiful," he oozed charm as he leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. "We're here to wait for Peggy."

"Peggy won't be home until tomorrow." Angie protested ineffectually as Howard led his troops into the residence. He began to order the men about, getting them to pour drinks from his stash and set up card tables for some promised poker.

Daniel took pity on Peggy's best friend and explained the reason for their celebration. "Stark really wants to tell Peggy, and I think he's having a hard time waiting."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Of course he is." She huffed a sigh. "That man is such a child."

She began to improve the level of organization - after all, she was still sober while the boys around her were three sheets to the wind. Poker games began, but as guys started dropping out, they either called cabs to take them to their homes or - and this was by far a more popular choice - they made their way to the guest rooms that Angie had pointed out to them.

It was 3:00 A.M. when Daniel finally started to make his way out. Angie caught him just as he was picking up the phone to call for a cab himself.

"Oh, Agent Sousa," she reached out to touch his sleeve. "You don't really want to find your way home now, do you? It's late and it's raining - too miserable to fight your way home through that. A couple of the guest rooms have two beds. We have plenty of room."

"Ah, thank you, Miss Martinelli," Daniel didn't relish the thought of trying to sleep through the racket that some other agents were making. Even down here in the foyer, the stentorian sounds of snoring echoed faintly from the guest rooms up stairs.

Seeing his eyes lift to the upper floor and realizing why he didn't really want to share a room with any of his colleagues, Angie grinned. "You know, I wouldn't offer this to just anyone, but since Peggy's not here, why don't you use her bed?"

ACACACACACACACACACAC

Present Day

That explained so much. He wished he'd had the forethought to drink a tall glass of water and dose himself with aspirin before he sank into Peggy's bed. The truth was, while an occasional night out on the town could be fun, it was more exhausting than pulling all-nighters for work. He wondered what time it was.

Well, time to find a bathroom, but he had known that already. With a great effort, he pushed the covers away and sat up to reach for his prosthetic. At his movement, something else shifted on the bed. It rolled over and settled, warm and solid against his lower back.

Daniel froze.

For a long, breathless moment, he waited. When there was no other movement, he risked a cautious look over his shoulder.

Peggy Carter lay sleeping, slightly spooning his back. She wore no make-up and her hair was mussed from sleep. She was breathtaking.

Oh, god. What was he going to do? How was this possible?

His poor bladder wouldn't allow indecision. Torn between the need for speed and the need for quiet, he practically jumped into the little chair at the bedside. With trembling fingers, he reattached his leg as quickly as he knew how. There didn't seem to be much to be grateful for at the moment, but he was relieved that he had only stripped down to his skivvies.

Shit. He would need to get dressed before he could venture out into the hallway to use the bathroom. He had folded his clothes and placed them...where? A quick search of the room revealed that his shirt and trousers were sitting on top of his shoes near the door. All. The. Way. Across. The. Room.

Somebody, he thought, please just shoot me now.

"Daniel?"

Peggy's voice, husky from sleep, made him turn in his seat to meet her slumberous brown eyes. Was there any situation when she didn't look sexy as hell?

"Uh..." His mind scrambled, looking for some kind of coherent statement. "I...uh...just need the facilities," he finally managed.

"Oh," she accepted that easily. "My bathroom's there." She pointed to a door opposite to the one he knew led to the hallway.

She closed her eyes again, oblivious to his uneasiness. Since she seemed to expect it, he started to make his way to the bathroom. He was just about to the door when her sleepy voice spoke again. "Daniel? There's aspirin in the medicine cabinet, if you need."

He took care of his business, even taking her up on the offer of aspirin. Lord, he hoped it kicked in soon. It took a monumental effort of will for him to open the door and reenter her bedroom. She still lay curled on her side in bed, but her eyes were wide awake, watching him as he made his way towards her. Rather than sitting on the bed, he chose to seat himself once more in the chair. He noticed her raised eyebrows, and waited for her to comment.

Silence stretched between them.

Unable to bear it, Daniel found himself talking. "Peggy, I am so sorry. Miss Martinelli offered me the use of your bed. She...I...we didn't expect you back until this afternoon. This was a horrible insult to your privacy. I am so, so sorry."

"Daniel!" Peggy sat up during his babbling apology, looking surprised and dismayed at his words. "Daniel," she huffed out a breath. "Do I look angry to you?"

"Um...no?"

"Do you think that anyone forced me into sharing a bed with you." She looked stern, as though she was scolding an exasperating child.

"No." The embarrassment was awful. Somehow he was feeling even worse now than over his broken engagement.

"Do you think less of me, for choosing to share a bed with you rather than trying to sleep on one of the couches?" For the first time that morning, there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"God, no, Peggy. It's just..."

"Look, Daniel. I can understand why this makes you uncomfortable. We're friends, and you aren't interested in anything more. I'm sorry for that, for your discomfort, but all we did was sleep." Her voice went slightly higher with her frustration.

Daniel gaped at her.

"Daniel, what?" She studied his face with concern. "What is it?"

"You think I'm not interested in you?"

"Well," now she seemed uncertain. "You never asked me again to go for a drink. I assumed that I had misread your intentions the first time you asked, that you just wanted to...I don't know...start to rebuild our friendship over a drink."

Daniel slumped back in the chair and allowed his head to fall with a thump against the wall.

The room was quiet as both were lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Daniel asked. "Why were you willing to climb into bed with me?"

Peggy's mouth twisted in a way that he recognized. She was hurt, but trying like hell not to show it. She shrugged and said defiantly. "It is my bed and I wanted to sleep. I had wanted to be home, so I took the red eye. It didn't matter to me that you were there because I don't mind," she seemed the choke a little on the words. "I don't mind being in close proximity to you."

Her words left him speechless. He stared at Peggy. As the seconds ticked by, Peggy regained her customary cool control, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin, and meeting his staring eyes defiantly. She was daring him to judge her.

Perhaps Daniel didn't have words at this current moment, but his thoughts were tumbling about in his head as he puzzled out what precisely she had meant. After an eternity, Daniel rose slowly from the chair, taking the mere two steps to the bed.

Peggy looked slightly confused as he stared down at her. Without a word, he laid down beside her once again, shifting on to his right side and adjusting the pillow to a more comfortable shape.

"What are you doing?" There was a crease between her brows as she considered him.

"I'm analyzing the evidence." He replied gravely.

"The..." she stopped herself. Now it was her turn to stare hard at him. Unexpectedly her lips twitched in amusement, but she controlled herself, schooling her face to calm. She, too, lay on her side facing him.

As he studied her face, she studied his. His actions seemed to have calmed her, and her patience was infinite as he looked his fill. Slowly, he brought his hand up and traced a finger down her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin, humbled by how her eyes drifted closed in apparent pleasure and she breathed out a sigh that seemed to well up from the soles of her feet. Could it be that smart, strong, ballsy, self-contained Margaret Carter was starved for touch?

He cupped his left hand around her neck and took one of the biggest risks of his life. He inched his face closer. Her eyes fluttered open and their gazes locked. Slowly, slowly the moved his lips towards hers, waiting for her to pull away, to put a stop to this madness. His lips touched hers tentatively, and her eyes closed once again. Following suit, Daniel closed his eyes as well, giving himself over to the pleasure of kissing Peggy Carter. Her lips were soft and moved languidly over his, trying to learn his taste, his texture. Her hand came up to caress his stubbled cheek while her teasing tongue moved over the seam of his lips. She hummed her pleasure when he opened his mouth and began to gently nibble her full bottom lip.

The next little while was taken up with the slow, drugging kisses. Peggy finally broke away from his kiss, but shifted closer to him, tucking her head under his chin with a smaller sigh, this one of great contentment. "What does the evidence tell you?"

He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "You know, I may need more time to conduct this investigation."

"That is very sound reasoning." Peggy approved, sounding sleepy.

Daniel let himself begin to drift again. It was Saturday and neither one needed to be in the office until Monday morning. They had all the time in the world.


	4. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel waits for Peggy to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimers apply.
> 
> Please see Author's Note at the end of this chapter.

On the bright side, Dottie Underwood was dead.

After two years of false leads, lost trails, and dead ends, the Russian assassin had definitively reappeared. Since losing her handler, Dr. Fennoff, their best intel suggested that she no longer followed anyone's orders. At times, whispers of evidence seemed to suggest that she offered her services as a hired gun. There were other hints, too, that she also killed for the pleasure the act brought to her.

There were times Daniel would wake from night terrors that showed him visions of Peggy Carter's lifeless body, bloody and maimed, with Dottie Underwood hunched over her in triumph, splattered with blood and carving more gouges in Peggy's ravaged flesh. The horror would jerk him out of sleep and he would fight back nausea as he stumbled his way to the bathroom. He would gag, choke, puke up his guts until his body was purged. At the time he wished there was something that could erase the images in his mind.

As it turned out, his dreams hadn't been too far from the mark. It had been Peggy who faced the black widow alone. A team of a dozen agents had followed all protocols, each one had one partner - or more - watching his (or her) back, and still Underwood had managed to orchestrate the situation to her liking. And what she had wanted more than anything was a showdown with Agent Margaret Carter.

In the end, Dottie Underwood lay dead, her throat pierced by a shard of glass that Peggy had managed to grab from the debris that littered the floor of the abandoned warehouse.

Carter had been luckier, but only just. She was still living, still breathing, and - as Daniel had heard Jarvis comfort a tearful Miss Martinelli - where there was life, there was hope.

After Underwood sprung the trap, it took an agonizing amount of time for the other agents to locate the two women. They converged on the building, eased their way in through the back, and found a disturbing sight. Underwood was dead, her blood congealing in a pool under and around her body. At first, it seemed as though Peggy was no where to be found. Then, Daniel glimpsed tracks along the ground, as though something - or someone - had been dragged. Signalling the others, Daniel led the group, guns in hands, following the trail that had been left.

They didn't have to go very far before they found Peggy. Oblivious to their arrival, Carter was moving herself along the floor, pushing with her feet, pulling with her hands...well, hand. Her left arm was useless and dragged sickeningly. Thompson reached her first, calling her name. She was in a world of her own, and when his hands touched her, trying to get her to stop so that her colleagues could help, she fought back as best she could. Kicking was her best option, but her movements were slow. There was no real power behind what blows did land.

Jack had threatened to cuff her. "I've done it once, I'll do it again." He tried to sound menacing, but seeing how badly injured she was dulled the edge of his irritation. Her face was bruised, the tissue already swelling. It was likely that she was only able to see out of one eye, her left one was swollen shut. Her clothing was torn and bloody, her left arm wasn't functioning properly. The worst was the lack of recognition in her eyes and the fact that she was almost begging. She kept saying Daniel's name, kept repeating that there was a bomb, that he shouldn't go home. It was an eternity before Daniel, with his hands delicately cupping her poor face, managed to make a connection with her.

That had been four days ago.

Peggy was rushed immediately to Memorial Hospital where doctors worked to undo some of the damage Underwood had caused. A stab wound that nicked her liver was set to rights with surgery, her broken left clavicle was splinted, and she received transfusions to counteract the blood loss she sustained. Her concussion was monitored, a sprained knee was bandaged, and other lacerations had been stitched up. Her friends and colleagues were told that all they could do was wait and hope for the best.

After almost twenty-four hours, Peggy started a cycle during which she would rouse for brief moments before falling back into unconsciousness. When she was awake, there was little lucidity to feed the hope Daniel was trying to maintain. It was harrowing to force her gently back down, even as she tried to get out of bed, tried to find Daniel, tried to warn him that his home was not safe.

The first time she woke, delirious, Daniel was not at her side. Howard had pushed, pulled, cajoled, and threatened to get Sousa to leave the hospital for a while, to rest, to eat, to shower. When he returned to sit with Peggy again, he found her in restraints. The nurses explained that they had found her, collapsed on the floor, trying to rise, trying to get out the door, trying to find Daniel.

The second time she woke, she panicked at finding herself in restraints and unable to complete the mission she set for herself - to find Daniel. To keep him safe.

Daniel was there that time. Defying the nurses, he freed Peggy's arms and legs. Then he worked hard to break through the static in her head that prevented her from seeing reality as it was. After that, he didn't leave the hospital again. He only left her side when another one of her friends was there to watch over her, and then only to grab a quick bite to eat or to use the facilities.

He allowed himself to doze, on and off, but the situation was taking a toll on his body and his mind. Everything irritated him, and he started snapping at everyone. The worst instance was when, after yet another check on the patient, the doctor couldn't tell him when Peggy would wake up and be back to herself. It was the serenity with which Dr. Biderman delivered the news that ignited Daniel's temper.

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Daniel roared. "What is taking so long? Why is she still like this?"

Dr. Biderman watched calmly as Daniel paced up and down the hallway and muttered darkly about inept doctors, the curse of bureaucracy at hospitals, and the failure to see patients as people. Daniel insulted everyone from Dr. Biderman, to the nurses, to the hospital administrator. At last, he ran out of words and sank helplessly down onto a hard bench that sat outside of the door to Peggy's room. Letting his crutch fall to the floor with a clatter, Sousa leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

A moment later, Dr. Biderman sat down beside him. There was a momentary pause, and then the doctor began to speak. "It is like this: healing can be hard work. Our Miss Carter has a great deal of healing to do. She needs all of her reserves for this task, but she is distracted by a message she wants to get to you. She cannot focus entirely on understanding that she has succeeded in her mission because her body needs too much for the healing. So, she isn't as efficient as you might expect her to be because her attention is split." Now Dr. Biderman's hand was a gentle weight on Daniel's shoulder. "Don't worry, lad. Have patience. She'll find her way home to you."

So, Daniel tried. He distracted himself by talking her Peggy until he found that the only things left for him to say were nonsensical. Then he read to her out of books that Jarvis brought and he wondered if Peggy liked poetry. If she did, how did Jarvis know? He wasn't one for artsy types of entertainment, but some of what he read...resonated.

" _...If they be two, they are two so_

_As stiff twin compasses are two;_

_Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show_

_To move, but doth if th' other do._

_And though it in the centre sit_

_Yet, when the other far doth roam,_

_It leans and harkens after it_

_And grows erect, as that comes home._

_Such wilt thou be to me, who must_

_Like th' other foot, obliquely run_..."

"Thy firmness makes my circle just," Peggy's soft voice jerked his attention away from the page. "And makes me end where I begun."

"Peggy?" Daniel dropped the book carelessly and brought his hand up to caress her cheek. For the first time in four days, her eyes were clear and met his without a hint of confusion or panic.

"Daniel," she acknowledged. "You enjoy Donne?" At his blank look, she prompted. "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning? The poem?"

"The..oh. No. Well, yeah, but no. I think Jarvis is the one who enjoys Donne. He left the book behind yesterday."

"Oh." Peggy seemed to take stock of the room and to inventory her own hurts. "I'm in hospital?" She verified. "How long?"

Daniel eased himself down to sit on the edge of her bed. "Four days," he sighed. "Do you remember what happened?"

She leaned back into her pillow, closing her eyes, and thinking. It didn't take long for her eyes to snap open. "The bomb!" Her right hand shot out and groped for his hand.

Daniel chuckled. Then he started to laugh. He shook the bed with his hearty guffaws, even as tears began to stream down his face. It took him too long to get himself under control, if Peggy's dismayed expression was anything to go by. Still, he managed to choke back the laughter that felt like sobs. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face and willed himself to calmness once again.

"Thanks to you," he began, "we discovered the bomb that Underwood rigged at my place. Kinlaw and Gomez were able to disarm it, and my home is safe again." He couldn't ignore how the tension left her body at his news. "Sweetheart, you've been trying to make sure that you got the message to me for the past four days." He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, then leaned his own forehead against hers. "You scared the life outta me."

Peggy's eyes drifted closed at the contact. "I think I was dreaming," she admitted. "I was trying to find you, and each time I got close, you'd somehow disappear." Her hand came up and grasped the front of his shirt. "I thought...I thought I'd lost...failed you."

Daniel straightened up and brought a hand up to cover hers. "Peg, you could never fail me. I," he hesitated. "You humble me - so much effort to keep me safe, and I couldn't get to you in time. Forgive me?"

"Oh, Daniel," Peggy's eyes were damp, "there is nothing to forgive. You were watching over me, yes? While I was sleeping?"

Daniel looked away, feeling sheepish. "I...it was the only way I could make sure you were safe."

Peggy's curved into a small smile. "With you, I am safe." She reassured him.

Her eyes started to close, although she tried to keep them open, to stay awake and with Daniel. "Sleep now, Peggy." Daniel instructed. "I'll be here when you wake."

Obediently, Peggy closed her eyes and snuggled further down under the covers. "Love you, Daniel." She murmured sleepily.

She had never said the words before, and Daniel felt poleaxed. It was some time before he was able to speak past the lump in his throat. "Love you, too, my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for how much exposition is in my writing. It is a goal of mine to work at reducing how much I rely on exposition. In this case, I wanted to (FINALLY) finish this chapter and story, so I used the tools I had on hand.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope that you enjoyed the escape. If you didn't, then I hope - at least - that you have been inspired to write your vision of lies ahead for these characters. Happy reading. Happy writing. - LL


End file.
